


Cuts

by missblatherskite



Category: Scream (TV)
Genre: F/F, Self-Harm, do not read if triggered, seriously self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblatherskite/pseuds/missblatherskite
Summary: She couldn't deal with it anymore.





	Cuts

The thing about blood was that it was permanently tied to Kieran, and Piper, and everything that had happened. Everything that was all her fault. But the thing about blood was that it was the only way she could feel better, for some seconds, for some minutes. It made the anxiety that always seemed to hum through her fade to the background. It made her feel right, soothed her guilt. She should bleed for what she’d done.

 

The first time she wasn’t that upset. She wasn’t panicked, she wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t quite numb. She was just…tired. She was tired of how she always felt, she was tired of trying to push it back, or punch it away.

 

And horribly it helped. It helped her deal and push back the pain, if only for a few minutes. So she kept doing it. And doing it, and doing it, until her thighs were covered with healing cuts and scars.

 

When she couldn’t keep hiding it, when she knew she had to stop, she went to Brooke. She couldn’t go to Emma or Noah. She couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t tell her dad. It was only Brooke she could tell. Brooke who didn’t have any disillusions of who she was left over from before everything. Brooke who knew she was dark but didn’t think it made up the whole of her.

 

“I hate myself. And I hate this but I can’t stop.”

 

And Brooke had looked at her, no judgement in her eyes.

 

“Oh, Audrey. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

 

So they started with the internet—Audrey wouldn’t allow any talk of therapists or seeking help.

 

It was hit and miss—snapping a band against her skin was just another way to hurt, a way to abuse. Ice on her skin was nothing. But drawing, drawing had something to it. So she drew. She drew murals on her arms on her legs, ignored the looks she got from her dad and other friends—just focused on the smiles she got from Brooke.

 

They drew together sometimes, Brooke on one arm, Audrey on one leg. And every stroke was a reminder _I can’t cut_. Every stroke was a little bit longer before everything faded, before she had the opportunity. It helped. It worked.

 

She had setbacks, of course. And each time she went to her, crying, ashamed. But Brooke never judged, only held her, only whispered in her hair. She never expected her to be strong. She never had to hide her weaknesses from her. Sometimes she was almost as helpful as the drawing.

 

It changed them, Audrey opening up, letting herself be weak in front of her. Slowly it pushed them more and more together, until hand holding was usual, until sleepovers were usual. Until kisses were usual. She wasn’t cured. She wasn’t magically better. But with Brooke, she knew that someday she could be.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been sitting on this for a while because I'm not completely happy with it. Being with Brooke doesn't cure her, not trying to imply that, just that Brooke is a support system for her. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Comments warm my little goblin heart.


End file.
